


Square T4: To Be Fair, TimeWarner Had It Coming

by dracusfyre



Series: Tony Stark Bingo Challenge [21]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Tony trying to be a good bro, extreme violence to home electronics, roundabout discussions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-22 00:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14925803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracusfyre/pseuds/dracusfyre
Summary: This was based on a picture prompt of Tony and Clint where Clint needs Tony's help hooking up his television.  I took a picture from a funny comic panel and made it sad, I'm sorry.





	Square T4: To Be Fair, TimeWarner Had It Coming

                “Uh…wow,” Tony said as he picked his way through the destruction of Clint’s living room.  Clint turned his head as he saw the door open and reached for his hearing aids just in time to hear Tony say, “-happened? Russian mob again?”

                “I couldn’t get the cable box to work,” Clint said dully, letting his head fall back against the couch cushions. He was sitting on the floor leaning against his ragged Goodwill couch, surrounded by sliced cables and half demolished electronic boxes.

                “I see.”  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tony stepping carefully around the mess until he could clear a spot and sit down next to him on the floor.

                It was quiet for a while until Tony gestured at the arrow sticking out of the TV and said, “Wanna talk about it?”

                “Nope.” Mostly Clint just wanted to crawl under the couch.  Why was Tony here, anyway? He hadn’t called him.  He had no interest in talking to anyone at all, much less the type of person who would say ‘wanna talk about it?’ “Just want to get my cable working.”

                “Right.” Tony paused for a moment and started sorting the mess, putting all of the cut cables and broken remotes into a tidy pile.  He picked up the offending cable box and eyed the multiple holes in the top from where Clint had stabbed it with an arrow a couple or ten times.  “I think I see your problem.”

                Clint smiled thinly.  “Would you believe that it was like that when I got it?”

                “TV, too?”

                “Sure.”  Clint drew his knees up and pulled a pillow from the couch; he wrapped his arms around it and buried his face in it for a moment before pulling back and making a face. “Bleh.  Smells like wet dog.”  He tossed it back on the couch and buried his face in his hands instead.  Maybe if he took his hearing aids out and refused to look at him Tony would get the hint and leave.

                Instead, Tony made a thoughtful noise and leaned back, his shoulder brushing against Clint’s. “Did I ever tell you about the time that I was dying?”

                “Just the one time?” Clint said sarcastically.

                “No, not the times that I almost died.  You’re right, that happens a lot. Hazards of the business. But no, I mean the time when my arc reactor was slowly killing me.  Palladium poisoning.  Happened before we all, uh, met.”  Clint turned his head just enough to see Tony picking at the callouses on his hands, eyes far away and face grave.  “I gave up for a while there.  Figured if I was going to die anyway, I should go ahead and drink myself to death first. It was pretty ugly.”

                “I’m not drunk,” Clint pointed out. He slouched further down against the couch, waiting for Tony to get to the point.

                “The drinking’s not the point.  The point is, I understand.”

                “Understand what?”

                Now Tony was looking at him like he was being a recalcitrant toddler, which was fair. “I understand this,” he said, waving the cable box at Clint.  “And all of that.”  He gestured to the TV and the piles of cables.   “You should have seen my LA house when Rhodey and I trashed it before I got my head out of my ass and got help.  So I get it, believe me.”

                Clint slowly tipped over and curled into a loose ball on the floor, swallowing thickly around the sudden lump in his throat.  “I just feel like I’m either angry or tired _all the time_.  I wanted to watch some TV but…” he gestured at the mess.  “I couldn’t get it to _work._ ”

                “I know, Clint,” Tony said sympathetically.  “Come over here.” Clint let out a long sigh and turned around so that his back wasn’t to Tony anymore.  To his surprise, Tony laid an arm across Clint’s shoulders and it actually felt good, the weight of it grounding and comforting.  “You know, we do stuff that people aren’t meant to do,” Tony said quietly.  “Not just the physical stuff, but the emotional and mental side of it.  It’s not a sign of weakness to admit that it gets to you and to ask for help.”

                _Jesus, Clint, what are you, a baby? Stop crying, I don't want to hear it._   Clint pushed the memory away and drew in a deep breath.  He held it for a moment and then let it out slowly, trying to hold off the sting of tears.  “Hey, Tony? I need help.”

                “With the cable?” Tony said with a quirk of his lips, squeezing Clint’s shoulder.

                Clint laughed damply. “Yeah, with the cable.”

                “Lucky for you, I know a guy.”

               


End file.
